The Wolf Amongst Us
by TheWolvesInsideUs
Summary: (Assuming R L J) A alternate AU where Jon Snow (or Sand) is fostered and raised in Dorne from birth at the request of Lord Eddard Stark, by the Martell's at Sunspear and the Water Gardens. As Jon is caught in the game of thrones, unbeknownst to him, Doran Martell has a special plan for his foster son, as well as the various players in the Seven Kingdoms and beyond.


**_Took direct inspiration from The Desert Wolf by chronos the cookie thief._**

**_AU: (Assuming that R + L = J) Eddard Stark, accompanying Jon Arryn to make peace with Dorne, makes a request to Doran Martell to foster his claimed bastard son at Sunspear._**

**_DISCLAIMER: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, and not would I want too. Too troublesome for my health. And also, GRRM makes better intro's then me. I am never writing Doran again._**

**Doran**

The water gardens were pleasant for a Dornishmen in the summer: hot day's, cool, open nights, with the salt breeze blowing in from the sea. Children from all ranks and areas of Dorne were sent to the Water Gardens to foster, where they would play together at the beach, pools, the fountains and the water under the blazing Dornish sun.

The Water Gardens were raised by Prince Maron Martell as a gift for his new bride, the first Princess Daenerys Targaryen, to mark the union of Dorne to the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. Pale pink marble paved the gardens and courtyard. Terraces overlooked the numerous pools and fountains of the Water Gardens, shaded by blood orange trees, and could be reached via a fluted pillar gallery leading to a triple archway.

Prince Doran Martell sat in his high seat with the unbroken letter in his hand, watching the countless amounts of children delightedly play in the pools. Areo Hotah stood at his right, with a firm and determined face, but even Doran knew the loyal guard felt hollow and broken inside. He did not blame the children for their joyful moods. They had been deprived of the knowledge of what had been happening in the Seven Kingdoms - of Rhaegar's defeat at the Trident, of Aerys' slaying by Ser Jaime Lannister; of his beloved sister and her children's brutal death's during the Sack. Doran had tried so hard to weep for his splintered family, but the tears would not fall.

Doran Martell always managed to find peace at the Water Gardens, where his six-year old daughter Arianne played with Drey and her former wet nurses's son, Garin. His daughter favored his wife in appearance, with an average height, a pretty face, thick mass of black hair and large dark, curious eyes. Doran felt a certain pride for his daughter. She was clever in her own right and unbelievably stubborn, even as a baby when she was sucking at her wet nurses's teat. She was a lot like her grandmother, though she would never know the women who had died suddenly during the first months of the Rebellion.

The pain slowly ebbed through his limbs again, a painful reminder of the gout he had been inflicted. The maester's had told him in grave tones that in a few years, he would never walk again, instead to be confined to a wheelchair. That was why he now was avoiding the commoner's and trusting his presence only with his advisers, family and trusted courtiers. Doran grimaced at the thought, but it was quickly replaced with the losses that Martell's had suffered.

Robert's Rebellion - or the War of the Usurper, the Targaryen loyalists secretly called it - had taken an extreme toll on the power of House Targaryen. The Dragons were now exiled and removed off the power of the Iron Throne. The remainder of Aerys' children were still kept at Dragonstone by loyalists, but Doran did not want to ponder their fates if Robert Baratheon got his hand's on them.

Because of the actions of the Crowned Prince and his father, it had come to not surprise that half the kingdom had risen up in rebellion against 'The Mad King'. The war had been going favorably for the rebels from the start, and in the end, the conflict had been decided at the Battle of the Trident. Dorne had reluctantly followed the Mad King, for he kept Princess Elia and his uncle Lewyn Martell as hostages, and Aegon was heir to the throne after Rhaegar.

Doran had been unhappy with Rhaegar's betrayal of Elia, still, his house had supported Aerys' bid to retain the throne since the Mad King held Elia and her children hostage in the Red Keep, providing a quarter of the royal troops at the Trident. House Martell lost many soldiers there, including his favorite uncle, a knight of the Kingsguard. When King's Landing fell, Princess Elia, Aegon and Rhaenys were brutally murdered during the sack by two Lannister knights, Ser Gregor Clegane and Ser Amory Lorch.

Oberyn had wanted to raise the Dornishmen to raise their banner's for Prince Viserys Targaryen after the news had arrived at Sunspear from King's Landing, but Doran had persuaded him otherwise, keeping him safely away from the other Dornish nobles under guard. Oberyn had fought, but in the end, had consented.

Now was not the time for revenge. His Dornish source who had survived the sack had confirmed to him that it had been those two Lannister knight's. The circumstances of their murder's were so grisly. Aegon's head had been dashed against the wall - a wee babe still suckling at his mother's breast. Rhaenys' had been stabbed over half a hundred times by Lorch, and their mother had been murdered by the mountain, raped with his hands full of Aegon's brains. Tywin Lannister had laid their bodies at the feet of Robert on the Iron Throne - wrapped in Lannister crimson to hide the blood, Aegon's face mutilated and Rhaenys' unrecognizable as a girl.

Doran could not help by growl deeply in fury at the dishonor done to his family. King Robert had not even had the decency to send Clegane and Lorch's heads. But he would wait, for now was not the time for action. He would play the long game if he had too, waiting for the perfect opportunity when the Lannister's of Casterly Rock were at their weakest. For as long as Tywin Lannister lived, Doran would never be satisfied.

He still remembered when Oberyn and Elia were 15 and 16, they had traveled together from Dorne to Casterly Rock, meeting potential suitors and marriage alliances, culminating in a visit to Joanna Lannister to fulfill their mother's wishes that their children would marry. When they arrived, Joanna had just died giving birth to Tyrion and Lord Tywin had slighted them shamefully, ignoring them for a few weeks before offering Elia the dwarf baby Tyrion, a further slight - not that it was the dwarf's fault. Doran made a note to spare the boy when he had his vengeance with Oberyn against the Lannisters.

He needed time to strengthen his forces. He needed to make alliances with other houses across Westeros. He wondered if the Tyrells, preferably Olenna Redwyne, would listen to reason. They had fought to the end alongside the Martells for the Targaryens, regardless of the rough history between the Reachmen and Dorne. House Darry especially, for Willem Darry was in charge of taking care of the surviving Targaryen children and Queen Rhaella. Hell, even the Greyjoys might listen to reason. Their ships would be useful.

But Doran Martell knew he had to wait and observe his enemies, learn their tactics and strategies, plant the seeds of doubt.

He still cringed how all this bloody fighting had started: Rhaegar had lusted after a noblewoman of the North - A Stark, betrothed to Robert Baratheon of all people - and had crowned her the Queen of Love and Beauty, instead of his own wife. They had run off a year later, to the sorrow of the kingdom.

Lyanna Stark meant nothing to Doran. She had only been sixteen, and blinded by love of a handsome prince. Rhaegar's stupidity and blindness had caused the downfall of his house. Kidnapping the Stark girl with no warning. Hiding away for most of the war. He hoped Rhaegar burned in all the Seven Hells. He knew this was not likely, for fire could not kill the dragon.

Doran breathed in to control his anger and sighed. His brain was already formulating plans. He looked at his daughter thoughtfully as she splashed in the pools, and wondered how she would look with the crown of a queen resting on her head. He liked the sound of it.

Doran smiled at the children and was about to say some to his guard when the a servant came in cautiously, wary of the prince. Doran beckoned him closer as Areo stood back to the prince's side, having assessed his threat level.

The servant bowed and said, "My prince, Lord Jon Arryn and Lord Eddard Stark have arrived in the main hall. They were sent as envoy's by King Robert Baratheon. May you want to receive them now?"

He nodded at the servant, and the man bowed again as he left the room to bring the lords. Doran was half-surprised by what he heard. He had thought to expect Jon Arryn - the Hand of the King and a man of amble diplomacy. He found it queer that Lord Stark would come with his foster father as well. He had thought that Lord Stark would be at Riverrun to collect his young Tully bride and their newborn son, to Winterfell.

As they arrived at the doors with the servant, halted by Areo Hotah, Doran motioned with the movement of a finger for his guard to let them pass. The two men, strangers to Dorne, looked around nervously before resting their eyes of Doran. The Prince looked over both of them, regarding and weighing their appearance.

Lord Jon Arryn, Warden of the East and Lord of the Eyrie, was a large and powerful looking man with broad shoulders, brown hair flecked with grey and piercing dark brown eyes. He had a kind and sympathetic face, though Doran found himself wary of the man.

It was young Lord Eddard Stark that interested him the most. He was not a particularly large or handsome man like his brother Brandon Stark, rather lean with a serious face. He had dark brown hair that fell to his shoulder's and grey eyes so intense that they seemed to be as soft as a fog. Doran had heard that Stark's eyes reflected his moods.

He had been told many things of Lord Eddard Stark, and felt a sort of gratitude and sympathy for the man. He had lost as much as Doran in this war. His father and his brother, burnt alive and strangled respectively on the order's of Aerys. If it could get any worse, he had found his sister dying at the Tower of Joy, something that made Doran somewhat angry. Rhaegar and Lady Lyanna had hid in Dorne - his own kingdom - and he had not known. Stark had fought for his family. He had been pushed to inherit a title that he never thought to inherit, replacing his elder brother when marrying Cateyln Tully.

Doran felt so sorry for Ashara. He knew that she had loved Eddard Stark. Their were rumors that he had incidentally bedded Lady Dayne during the Rebellion, fathering a bastard.

He also knew of how Lord Stark had argued rather hotly and furiously in front of almost all of King's Landing against the murder's of Elia, Aegon and Rhaenys. He had wanted justice for the wrongful acts of treason, though Robert refused to listen, instead currying up favor to the man who had done the dirty work for him. It had caused a rift between the foster brother's, something that only healed after Lady Lyanna's death. Even if he had lost, Doran greatly appreciated that Ned Stark had tried to achieve justice for his family.

Only a fool would doubt Stark's keen sense of honor, loyalty and justice. And Doran was no fool.

"Lord Arryn, Hand of the King," Doran said. "Lord Stark, Warden of the North, welcome to Dorne." He gestured for them to sit at his right.

"Thank you, my prince," Lord Arryn replied, taking his seat by Doran.

Stark hesitated, before nodding and sitting next to his foster father.

Their was an uncomfortable silence as they watched the children play. No one could think of the right. What could they say, despite lies and flattery?

"My prince, we must on behalf on ourselves and the Baratheon's to offer our sincere condolences on the losses you suffered during the war. The..._deaths _of your family are events that King Robert wished would not happen." Lord Arryn said first.

"Such a tragedy, losing your family like that," Stark said quietly. "Justice should have been served."

Jon Arryn shot his foster son a sharp look. The young lord narrowed his eyes and looked down, his grey eyes hardening. That was all Doran needed to confirm. He truly did care about what happened.

He wanted to scoff at those words, but he knew they were half-true. He knew they were offering the truth on their part, but Baratheon felt no remorse. All he saw was Dragonspawn.

"And I am sorry for your losses as well, Lord Stark," Doran offered. "Losing your family in a span of a year...something that should not have happened the way it did."

"Thank you, Prince Doran." Stark said after an awkward silence. Jon looked sadly at the young man.

So then they began talking for almost an hour, attempting to pacify the relationship between the Dornish, the Baratheon's and the Lannister's. Ned Stark was silent for all of it, looking ahead at the children playing, a faint smile on his lips. Doran wondered if he was thinking of his own son and heir at Riverrun, waiting for his father. Doran remembered frantically pacing outside the room where his wife had given birth to Arianne, and then Quentyn. He knew how much to love a child.

Once Doran had consented and had sworn fealty to the Iron Throne once more, now under a different dynasty, he had also promised to keep his brother in check and the rest of Dorne. _At least, for now. _He said to himself later.

It was after he had offered them Dornish wine when Lord Arryn had called in for the bones of his dead family.

Doran chocked back the tears brimming at his dark eyes, using his sheer will to hold all the emotions in his head back. He pushed a sob away as he looked down at his uncle and sisters.

"What about my niece and nephew?" Doran asked. "Why were they not sent as well?"

"My prince, since they were Targaryens, we had their bodies prepared and given a burial of Old Valyria. Alongside their father, their bodies were cremated and scattered in the wind." Arryn said hesitantly.

Stark nodded in agreement.

Doran sighed and bit his tongue. He felt his limbs almost crack over in pain and sorrow. Of course, he should have known. No matter who their mother was, it was always to go back to their blasted father. His sister and uncle deserved better than what they had been given.

After all business was included and Doran had inquired politely after their families and Eddard's son, he had commanded his steward to prepare rooms for their guests. Arianne had tried to come up to see him, but his guard had taken the confused girl away, who had pointed curiously at the two foreign lords and asked who they are out loud.

When Lord Arryn bowed and left the room, he stood up with effort and was about to go to his chamber's when he realized Lord Stark was still in the room, sitting down and staring numbly at his drink.

"Is their something you wish to ask or tell me about?" He asked. They had not left anything out in their negotiations. Whatever Stark had in his mind, it was bothering him.

Eddard gulped and took a long draft of his wine before setting it down. He looked up at the Prince. "It is naught to do with the business we had come here today for, my prince, my something of a more personal matter...for me. A favor, if you will."

Doran frowned. A favor? He wondered what the young lord would want of him in private. The Martell's and the Stark's had only briefly ever had relations with each other, and that was at the Tourney of Harrenhal. Doran's mother had been disappointed when Brandon had been betrothed to Lady Cateyln. She had hoped to arrange something with Elia, for his mother held the Stark's in high regard for their moral sense of honor. The first Martell to ever wed a Stark.

Eddard Stark was silent once more, and Doran waited patiently for him to continue. The young lord sighed and called for one of his guard, and whispered into his ear. A few moments later, a woman came in carrying a bundle in her hands. It took a few seconds for the Prince to realize who it was.

"Lady Wylla?" Doran asked, shocked to find the wet nurse of House Dayne with Lord Stark.

The pretty wet nurse lower her gaze respectfully, "My prince."

"What are you doing with Lord Stark?" Doran wondered out loud.

Wylla was about to respond, but then glanced nervously at Eddard before staring down fervently at the bundle of her blankets in her arms, moving it gently, side to side. It was then Doran realized that she was carrying a child. He looked at Lord Stark with a questioning look.

"Is that..."

"My prince, the babe in Wylla's hand is my son." Eddard began timidly. Doran frowned at the breaking of Stark's voice. He sounded frightened and worried for some reason.

"Your bastard?" Doran asked gently. The young lord nodded slowly.

Doran asked, "May I ask his name?"

"Jon, my prince."

Named after Jon Arryn, Doran suspected. "What about his mother? Who is she?"

Ned hesitated for long enough for Doran to notice. "Lady Ashara. She gave birth to Jon a month after Robert took the Iron Throne. He is but a wee babe."

So the rumors were true. Lord Stark had been infatuated with the Dornish lady during the Tourney at Harrenhal and had begun to meet in secret with her. Even after he had married. No wonder why Ashara had flung herself from the window into the sea. Combined with hearing of her brother and best friend's death, and her lover's marriage - she could never have him - she had committed suicide. Despite feeling sorrow for Ashara, Doran felt a sense of anger and disappointment towards the beautiful lady. She had left a child motherless, in her own anguish and depression, never realizing that the birth of a child was the sweetest thing in the world.

"A Sand?"

Ned said nothing.

"Why is he not with his mother's family then?" Doran asked. "He cannot go with you. You have your own family at Riverrun to ride back to collect. It would be selfish and a burden for your bastard son. I know Lord Dayne. He would want to keep his grandson close to him, regardless of his status."

"I acknowledged him as my bastard," Stark said. "With Ashara's death, I felt it would be rude to leave a baby with them in their time of mourning, regardless of their relations with Jon. I will help him however I can, but I cannot take him to Winterfell. I do not want his life to be filled with a reminder of his status when compared to the children I have with my wife. That is why I have come here."

Doran was impressed with the young lord, but he wanted to know why he was still here? He felt he knew the answer, but it eluded his grasp.

"Lord Dayne implored me to ask you this when I made my leave of Starfall, the only words he had for me after Ashara's death. My prince, I ask your permission to foster him in Dorne, at Sunspear, with you."

Doran was impressed with this young wolf. He clearly looked uncomfortable and young, but their was no hesitation in his words or voice. Not even a falter.

"The rest of the Seven Kingdoms disregard bastards, but Dorne does not. I would gladly foster your son at Sunspear alongside my family. I am sure my eldest daughter and my infant son will be delighted to have him around. He is half-Dornish after all." Doran said.

Ned Stark breathed out relief as Wylla continued playing with the baby. For a child of that age, he was awfully quiet. "Thank you, my prince. Whatever-"

"I do have a question however. Why do you wish to offer the boy to me. He _is _your son after all. Wouldn't you want to foster him with one of your northern bannermen - I am sure they would more than happy to raise your son."

Ned cast a sideways glance at Wylla before saying, "He is safer in Dorne. No one can reach him here."

"What do you mean, my lord? Why would anyone want to harm your bastard?" Doran asked.

"I-"

"Lord Stark, please do not lie to me. I know when people lie to my face, and you are clearly uncomfortable. If you want me to foster you bastard, then be truthful."

Ned sighed, and then poured another cup of wine for himself. "My prince, if you must now, then I think it is wise that you sit down and listen to what I have to say."

Doran gave the young lord a look of curiosity, but sat down regardless.

Ned took a deep breathe. "I was never going to divulge this information to anyone. I made a promise, and I was going to keep it to my death. I cannot not tell my children, my wife, my closest friends. The only people alive who have knowledge of what I am about to reveal to you is the woman nursing Jon-" Eddard gestured towards Wylla, who shifted her footing. "And Lord Howland Reed."

That name meant nothing to Doran, but he kept his silence. He poured himself Dornish wine and sipped on his goblet.

"And Lord Dayne and his family know of this as well.

"My prince, what I am about to reveal can never go out of this room no matter what. It is extremely important that this secret is kept from the rest of Westeros and Dorne. I must have your promise that no matter you personal feelings on the matter or your anger, that you will not take harm against Jon."

Doran was rarely confused in his life, but he felt so confounded. What was this wolf talking about?

"My lord, I assure you, I will not harm Jon. Though I do not why you would think I would."

Ned did not answer, but then leaned forward. Doran raised an eyebrow.

"My prince...I have lied to you. The reason why I would want you to foster and look after Jon is because...Jon is not my son."

Doran head backed away. "What?! You just said-"

"I claimed him as my bastard to protect him from Robert's wrath," Ned said. "He is of my blood, but he is not my son."

"If he is not your son-" Doran looked over at Jon, who was concealed from him at Wylla's breast. "Then who is his father? Is it your elder brother?"

Ned shook his head. "Ashara is not his mother either. I had to lie, to hide the truth. He is my nephew, but not of my elder brother."

It was then Doran knew. _No, that is not possible. It is wrong. _

"Your...sister." Doran whispered.

Ned nodded grimly. Doran looked into his grey eyes to see any falseness, but he shocked and surprised to see none.

"Rhaegar...is Jon's father." Doran said.

So they continued to talk. Doran wanted to scream at Ned. How could he bring Rhaegar's bastard here - the boy who was the product of Rhaegar's betrayal of Elia, his sister. It made it even worse when Ned told him reluctantly that Rhaegar and Lyanna had only conceived Jon after he had married her under the Faith and the Old Gods, reigniting the Targaryen tradition of polygamous marriage. As Ned explained what he had witnessed at the Tower of Joy, Doran suddenly felt sorry for Lyanna. He had been angry at the young girl when it was not her fault. She had been naive and blinded by fantasies, but she was only a young girl betrothed to a whoremonger. She had died in childbirth because Rhaegar had not cared or had the time to place a proper maester and handmaids for her. The Stark girl had had to do it alone, with only the Kingsguard and Wylla to help her. It was Rhaegar, all Rhaegar. Doran felt a loathing towards his good-brother. It was because of his actions that the Martells were broken.

Doran realized all of a sudden that by all laws of Targaryen loyalists, Jon was in fact a prince and next in line to the Iron Throne. It made him feel somewhat bitter inside. Aegon had been next in line - his own nephew. A Targaryen-Martell boy who would have been king: Aegon the Sixth of his Name. But Doran could not blame Jon or Ned Stark for Tywin Lannister or Baratheon's or Rhaegar's treason.

As he collected his thoughts, it seemed Lord Stark had noticed the conflicting emotions of his face. The northern lord's face hardened, and he stood up all of a sudden.

"It is clear that you will not accept this offer," Eddard said. "I am fine with this. Jon is a slight against your family, and I am sorry I have burdened you with this knowledge. It does not make things easier for your mourning. If you would like, I will leave with my nephew to Winterfell, and we will not speak again."

Eddard bowed and turned to leave. Doran was hurt that Ned would think of him like that. True he was angry, but not at the innocent boy.

"May I hold him?" Doran asked quietly.

Eddard looked back. "What?"

"May I hold Jon? I have not even seen what he looks like. I would like to look over him." Doran said. He was curious. He guessed the boy took after his father: silver-blonde hair, purple eyes, good looks. Like Aegon.

Eddard seemed reluctant, but as he searched the prince's face, he consented. Wylla came forward, gently steadying Jon in her arms before handing the bundle carefully to the prince. Doran felt a sharp pain through his ribs as he moved his arms, but ignored it. As he took hold of the bundle, he looked at the boy.

Doran was very surprised by what he saw. For starters, Jon Targaryen - for that was his legitimate name - looked nothing like the crowned prince. Instead, Doran was stunned to find - and somewhat happy - to see that Jon favored his Stark coloring - with wisps of dark brown and grey eyes that appeared black. The babe was very quiet and pale-skinned, and his eyes moved with wonder across Doran's face. He stretched out a hand in wonder, touching the prince's cheek as Doran came closer. The only thing that Doran could see that even remotely resembled Rhaegar was that they had the same eye and nose shape, and his lips were dark pink. Other than that, everything was from his Stark side. He had a long face, solemn and guarded even at a young age. He was also very handsome and cute for a wee babe.

Jon looking more like his mother, made it easier for the prince to handle.

It was then Doran knew his decision. He could never harm this boy, nor would he live with a decision to send him away. Lord Stark was trusting him with the last son of the Targaryen dynasty, besides Viserys. He was trusting him to raise him in an environment where he would feel welcome. And Doran swore to the old gods and the new that he would make Jon feel like one of his. He did not know where this was coming from, but he felt the boy deserved a better life that what he had been born into. If Robert ever found out about him...

Doran looked over at Arianne, who continued to play with her friends. She noticed him staring at her, and seemed puzzled when her eyes found the bundle in his hands. Then her eyes shone with wonder as she ran forward towards him, Hotah chasing after her.

"Father," Arianne said as she came by his seat. She pointed at the baby in his hands. "Who is that?"

"This is Lord Eddard Stark's natural son, my princess," Doran explained. "And he will be staying with us."

Lord Eddard Stark looked up in surprise. Areo Hotah looked at him with confusion, but Doran shot him a look that said _I'll explain later. _

Arianne turned her head towards Lord Stark and did a curtsy. "My lord, I am sorry. I did not see you their."

"It is quite alright," Ned said with a smile. He looked at Doran, who still had Jon in his arms. "Is this your daughter?"

"My daughter and heir."

"Yes. I forget the Dornishmen put the eldest child ahead, regardless of gender." Ned said.

Arianne said to Lord Stark, "What is his name?"

"Jon, my princess."

"Jon." She sounded the name out. "That's a common name. I like it."

Arianne looked up. "May I hold him father?"

Doran was surprised on how eager Arianne was. She had only been half like this with Quentyn. He looked at Lord Stark, who nodded his consent. Doran carefully gave Jon to Arianne's outstretched arms. His daughter giggled as Jon began making goggling noises and cute sounds as Arianne traced his face with her finger. "He's cute. And light. Quentyn was heavy when I held him."

As Wylla helped Arianne hold Jon properly, Ned looked at Doran, "Will you accept my offer, Prince Doran?"

"I thought I already did." The realm had been split apart by the war, and it needed time to heal. Could he do this? Could he raise Lyanna and Rhaegar's son? He cast a look at Jon's oblivious baby face and realized how would try. Jon would have a good life, and he would not need to know of his true heritage now.

Ned Stark nodded grimly at this. Doran ordered his tired steward to find quarters for Jon and Wylla until something more permanent could be arranged. He also ordered that his families's bones, which were currently in his chambers, to be prepared and sent to Sunspear for a proper burial. When the steward left with a beaming Arianne and Wylla, Doran and Eddard began talk of how Jon was to be raised and Ned's involvement of the child.

"I will tell no one Lord Stark. This secret will only be kept between you and me."_  
_

Doran promised himself that he would have Jon educated and taught the ways of being a true king. He would not divulge his true parentage to him until he was ready, and the realm needed a dragon again.

It was mutually agreed that Lord Eddard would send a letter to Jon once he came of age to walk and talk at least once or twice a month, to keep the pretense of Eddard being his father. Ned would also visit Jon every three or four years, and Jon would also be sent occasionally to Starfall to reside with his _mother's _family. To Doran, it all felt wrong and he knew Eddard Stark felt it too, but they had to think of the bigger picture.

Doran promised to raise Jon with his own children and his nieces, under the pretense of Jon being half-Dornish himself. Doran knew Oberyn would not take kindly to Jon being Rhaegar and Lyanna's son, so he chose not to tell his younger brother. At least, not yet.

He knew Oberyn would take Jon under his wing when he came of age. He had taken many bastards as a squire, and Jon was something special. Oberyn and Ashara had been friends as children and adults. Ashara had been Elia's handmaiden and lady-in-waiting before both their untimely deaths, and Oberyn would want to raise her son.

"Why Dorne, my lord?" Doran asked when they reached a silence. "Why with me."

Ned said, "Even in the North, we know of the Martells. The North and the desert is not as different as you think. We are looked down upon by the rest of the south, when they do not realize it is us that protects them from the true dangers. The safest place for my nephew is Dorne, and I know you will treat him well."

Doran felt strangely prideful that a stranger was trusting him with something of this importance.

As Lord Stark made his leave with his guard, and promised to speak with him on the morrow, Doran wondered how he was going to do this. Plans had begun formulating in his minds. He had originally wanted to arrange a betrothal between Viserys and his Arianne, but he knew that would be pointless since he was not the rightful heir. He would have struggles making his secret alliances with the houses he wanted. Some would not accept Jon for who he really was. Doran had not doubted Lord Stark, but other houses might.

Doran would need to make peace with houses he had not thought to conspire with. He could not do this directly, for he knew that lord would not welcome intrigue when a war had just been fought. Doran would have to make contact with the other members of the lord's family, and hope that they would see sense.

As he sat there watching the sun and thinking about how he would restore the Martell's to their glory, Doran thought of all the patience he would need to muster in order to achieve his goals. _I did not want to play this game of thrones, but it seems I must. _He hoped he could, for his sake and his family.

_**This chapter is crap, I know that. I was just rushing and I am sorry. I hate introductions. I promise it will get better. So now Jon is living in Dorne under the assumption that Eddard Stark is his father and Ashara Dayne is his mother. Next chapter will be a long summary of his childhood right up to the starting events of the canon, and then we will take it from there as events intertwine. We'll see Jon's adventures in Dorne. He will be a different type of person under a friendly and loving Dornish influence. Of course, it will not be hugs and kisses. Jon will still face troubles and moral dilemmas. **  
_

_**Make suggestions for how you think the story should go by reviewing the chapter. Please favorite and follow. I feel inspired.**_


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